Mamma told me there’d be days like this…

Earlier this week I defended my PhD.  This was a milestone moment in my life. I had always wanted to do my PhD but thought it would be in the area of Art history – my great passion. Instead, I embarked on a journey to recount the history of my maternal heritage. White Russians who fled from the cursed Red Bolsheviks during the Russian Revolution and Civil War.  My grandfather was a naval officer fighting for the White (Tsarist) Russians.  He was captured by the Reds and about to be executed, but for an incredible twists of fate which enabled him to escape, and together with his wife, flee on foot some 800+ kilometres to Harbin in Manchuria (China) with the help of Chinese guides. 

Harbin was a city settled by Russians to extend the Trans-Siberian Railway.  As such it was developed as a wholly Russian city. My mother was born there.  Manchuria, in north east China, borders Russia and it was a heavily geopolitically contested area, rich in resources, but more significantly, strategically important.  The Russians, the Chinese and the Japanese all wanted to rule this place.  And they did, successively. First the Russians, then the Chinese, then the Japanese and then the Soviets and finally the Chinese Communist Party.  No-one really wanted theses leftover Russians and in the end, they were expelled by the Chinese Communist government in the late 1950s.  Many came to Australia. 

The majority of these original Harbiners are old and few are left.  My mother is now in her late 80s.  China has re-written its history to reflect that they were the original settlers, not the Russians.  Manchuria is no longer; it has become part of the province of Heilongjiang. During China’s cultural revolution churches and other Russian buildings and evidence of their presence were torn down, burnt, eradicated.  This is revisionism.

Harbin’s history is disappearing.  When the last of the Harbintsy die will their history also die? Will it become unknown? I feared it would and so I embarked on writing this history of how they came to be there, what they did, how they survived various occupations, and how then they came to Australia.  It was a huge undertaking, particularly during Covid when I couldn’t travel to access archives and none of the libraries or other institutions were lending material.  I did the best I could with what was available and wrote my dissertation. I submitted it with great sense of “wow, I’ve done it” and waited for the next step.

The examiners’ reports.  There were two reports, one was extremely favourable and required no changes; the other, was 19 pages long full of “suggestions” which I duly undertook.  They were actually really helpful in enabling me to tighten up and better articulate some of my arguments. 

Then came the big one: the oral examination in which I get to defend my thesis and convince my examiners it is worthy of its research and contribution to scholarship.  The thing about this “defence” is that it is an unknown quantity.  You have an opportunity to present your findings and what you believe the value of your dissertation brings, and then …. well, let’s just say that some “examinations” have been known to last 8 hours.  You just never know. 

Mine was quick.  Just 90 minutes and a very positive outcome.  I have to admit I was incredibly stressed beforehand and very nervous on the day but I felt confident that my presentation was good and I was pleased to see the examiners nodding away.  At the end of it, I was congratulated on my achievement and advised to turn it into a book. 

Hooray I did it. 

But I felt a bit like Elia Doolittle in My Fair Lady where Prof. Higgins and Col. Pickering are congratulating each other … “you did it” and Eliza is somehow left out of the celebrations.  So, although my children and friends sent me wonderful txt responses, I realised I had no-one to celebrate with.  Here was a milestone moment in my life, a huge  achievement, and I was alone.  I did consider going out to sit at a nice restaurant and have a drink and something to eat but realised it was Valentine’s Day.  Nothin doing.  I couldn’t even buy myself nice flowers because my florist said all they had was Valentine Day bouquets.  Pooh.

I felt sad and lonely. Michael would have had a bottle of champagne waiting in the fridge (no matter what the outcome) and we would have gone out for lunch. I did put a bottle of champagne in the fridge and had a glass (well, more than one…) but it just didn’t feel the same. There were no hugs. No huge smiles and congratulations. Here was an epic moment in my life and I felt let-down. By myself.

I only had myself to blame for not organising anything.  I guess I’m still not used to living solo and negotiating all those moments when life demands a response.  So here I sit and raise the last glass of champagne from the bottle to myself and my incredible achievement.  Salut!!

You did it
You said that you’d do it
And indeed you did.

^{Lerner and Loewe, “My Fair Lady”}

I get to wear this lovely bonnet 🙂